


A Prickly Rose

by claroso



Series: The Clara Amell Story [2]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Awkward, Other, Rejection, Unrequited Crush
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-29
Updated: 2019-09-29
Packaged: 2020-11-01 13:24:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 592
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20815856
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/claroso/pseuds/claroso
Summary: Alistair offers his fellow Warden a rose.





	A Prickly Rose

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sure I'll get some flak for this, but in my first play-thru, Alistair tried to make a move on me and I turned him down. I already knew that I wanted to romance Zev, so I had to, but yikes! What a gut-punch of a scene! It makes me cringe just thinking about it. 
> 
> And just imagine how awful that would be for Alistair and Clara. For Alistair, it's likely his first crush. The Warden is his best friend and the one person he can rely on, now that Duncan is gone. But he's inexperienced and can't really tell the difference between someone being friendly and someone actually showing interest. For Clara, it's the worst possible idea. She doesn't want love at all, sworn it off after the last man she was with. And Alistair is her best friend, she can't mess around with him if she knows it won't go anywhere. 
> 
> So, enjoy this terrible, terrible scene that took me so long to write because I felt so bad about it.

"Do you know what this is?"

Clara stared at the rose blankly. She glanced back up at Alistair, sitting next to her. 

"It's...your new weapon of choice?" She guessed. When her fellow Gray Warden laughed, she smiled. "Is this a trick question, Ali? It's a rose!" 

Alistair snickered. "No! Well, yes, but--" He laughed harder.

"What?" She giggled. 

"Watch as I thrash our enemies with the mighty power of floral arrangements!" He guffawed. "Feel my thorns, darkspawn!" 

"I will overpower you with my rosy scent!" Clara gasped out, collapsing onto her back and shaking with silent laughter. "Yaah!" 

Their laughter eventually faded into the dark night sky. For a few moments, Clara just enjoyed the quiet, the simplicity of her life in this moment. They were usually so busy, either fighting for their lives or solving some life-threatening, civilization-dooming situation. In comparison, she cherished the inane task of keeping watch. Everything seemed to slow down. Zevran stopped talking, for maybe the first time that day. Wynne's snoring could barely be heard over the crackle of the campfire. Even Shale was leaning up against a tree, relaxed. As much as it could be, she supposed. It was nice. Despite everything going belly-up, she was happier now than she ever was in the Circle. 

Clara slowly spun the rose between two fingers, letting the petals brush her nose. "But really, what is it?"

"It could just be a rose." 

She turned onto her side and poked him in the ribs. "I know there's a point to this, go on and get to it." 

"Ow, fine, fine." Alistair sat up. "I picked it in Lothering. I remember thinking, 'How could something so beautiful exist in a place with so much despair and ugliness? I probably should have left it alone, but I couldn't. The darkspawn would've come and destroyed it. So I've had it ever since."

"Ali, that was months ago."

"Yeah. I thought that I might..." He rubbed the back of his neck, blushing. "give it to you, actually. In a lot of ways, I think the same thing when I look at you."

Clara sat up, dread creeping over her. This sounded rehearsed. Oh Maker, he had rehearsed this. 

"I wanted to tell you what a rare and wonderful thing you are to find amid all this...darkness." He finished. He was pink in the cheeks but smiling, leaning towards her expectantly. 

"Alistair, I'm so sorry. I can't--I'm not interested." 

The smile slid off his face, hurt replacing the hope in his eyes. A heavy hand closed around Clara's throat. She couldn't breathe. 

"You--you're not?" He asked quietly. She shook her head mutely. 

Silence stretched between them, brittle and sharp. Clara heard a wet sniffle. Looking over, she saw Alistair cover his face. Oh, fuck. 

She shot up, muttering something about their watch being over. Nearly sprinting across the camp, she stumbled into her tent and over Lelianna. 

"Lelianna!" She shook her. "I need you to take over watch!" 

The redhead groaned. "Already? Where's Alistair?"

"Alistair is--he's--" She stuck her head out, pausing when she saw that camp was empty. "Alistair's gone."

"He's what?" Lelianna sat up, reaching for her unstrung bow.

"He's fine, he'll be back. Sometime." Ignoring her friend's raised eyebrows, she threw herself to the ground next to her still-sleeping mabari. "Goodnight." 

Over the thundering of her heart, she heard her leave the tent. Next, Lelianna's and Zevran's voices murmuring together. She closed her eyes and willed them to stop burning. She didn't hear Alistair return. 


End file.
